Flicker
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: Lily had always hated fire, and she hated her fiery locks that reminded her of torch light.


_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin cat, using prompt # 172, torch. This is just what popped into my head. **_

….

For the record, Lily hated fire. She hated sitting near the Gryffindor fireplace when it was lit, the flames licking and sparking up the walls. She could always imagine the common room going up in smoke, and everyone she had ever cared about burning away. And her _hair. _It was like the universe was playing some, big cosmic joke on her, giving her flaming locks of reddish-orange. Hair that got her the nickname 'Fire Girl'. Hair that startled her when she looked in the mirror in the morning, because it looked like flames were dancing across her scalp, and she always wanted to scream.

Marlene _loved _her bright hair; so did Alice, and all of her other friends. They didn't see her red locks as scary, burning fire, but as a beautiful torch light that made sure they always knew where she was. Everyone else seemed to have fallen in love with Lily's hair, like it was something beautiful, something to gawk at. They acted like her hair was something that made her different, something that made her special. As far as Lily could see, though, was that her hair scared her, because it always looked (and felt) like fire was rippling down her back, searing her.

When she was six, Lily had accidentally lost control of her magic (she hadn't known it was magic then, and it had taken years to connect the two situations) and, in her anger, flames had begun to dance from the fireplace of her home. Hot and red, they flickered and sparked all over the place, until one flame landed on the rug; it had set the carpet and rug ablaze, leaving a terrified Lily in the middle, with no idea what to do, or how to make it stop.

Her father had run in and saved her, eventually, when he smelled the smoke and realised she was gone. Mum had called the fire department, then snatched up Petunia and running out of the house with her; later, Mum had come running back in several times to fetch 'important family heirlooms' such as pictures, or her wedding dress. Afterwards, Lily had begun a lifetime passion of hating fire, and anything that came along with it. She had always worn her hair long just _because_, though it scared her. It scared her, feeling the warmth of her fiery hair. She could sometimes still see flames dancing around her shoulders, or smell smoke.

She _really _hated fire.

….

She had taken a pair of scissors from her dresser drawer (safer than a knife or a searing charm) and cut most of her hair off. What had once been long locks of dangerous flame was now very tames red fluff that went just past her ears, so she still looked like a girl. No longer would her hair remind anyone of a torch or a flame. She had cut the fire out of her hair, and left behind a slightly-less scared young girl. Her cut off hair was in a bag right now; she was planning on taking it out to the forest for birds to use in their nests.

But, first, she had to get through the common room, which was full of her friends and not-quite-friends, who had all last seen her with long, flaming locks. She hoped she could at least make it halfway to the door before anyone noticed, so it would be easier to escape. Lily didn't make it two feet.

"Evans, what happened to your hair?" Alice demanded, rushing over. She grabbed what was left of Lily's red hair, looking at it in shock. Within seconds, Lily was surrounded by most of her House, it seemed, crowding around her in an effort to look at her now very short hair. People were touching her and asking why she'd done that, when her hair had looked so pretty before. Lily had nothing to say to them; they didn't understand anything. They didn't understand that she'd lived in a constant state of fear, wearing her hair long for so many years. With short hair, she felt free, like someone had released a weight from her. She had no reason to be afraid anymore.

The flames were gone.


End file.
